


Broken Aftermath

by scotchandtextiles



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Despair, Emotional Hurt, Ficlet, Hurt, M/M, Other, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotchandtextiles/pseuds/scotchandtextiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This isn’t happening.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to keep everything vague until the end. Apologies to anyone I haven't warned/adequately prepared in regards to this piece.

 

 _Most of what you see my dear_  
_Is purely for show_  
_Because_  
_Not everything that goes around_  
_Comes back around, you know..._

...Like Clockwork - Queens of the Stone Age

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

A flash of silver; a sickening thud; and the feed was dead.

 

_This isn’t happening._

 

He stared at the now dead screen in disbelief; a heavy breath caught deep in his throat. The voice at the back of his head tried to reason with him. _You knew this could happen…field agents face that fact every day!_ It didn’t matter. No amount of mental training could take this sharp wave of despair away. He sat in stunned silence for what felt like an eternity. Until he surprised himself with the sound of his own voice.

 

“Lancelot.”

 

_This isn’t happening._

 

The pressure in his jaw was building, he knew he was waiting for an answer that was not going to be reciprocated, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Lancelot. Can you hear me?” Silence. He could feel himself starting to break.

 

_This isn’t happening._

 

“…James?” The usual steadiness of his voice was gone. He barely could muster up a hoarse whisper. “James, please…”

And just like that - the dam shattered. The sobs violently shook his body. His hand quickly went to his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the broken sounds coming from the pits of his stomach. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to throw that damned coffee mug across the room. He wanted to shatter that damned screen before him. He wanted to scream to the high heavens and beg and plead to whoever would hear him and demand James back. It was James that didn’t mind that he was so engrossed in the work. It was James that loved his reserved manner when others saw it as tedious and painfully uptight. It was James that always knew what he was thinking. It was James that always gotten him to laugh. It was James that had reassured him that a simple extraction needed no further assistance while he prepared for the trip. That was only two days ago.

 

_This isn’t happening._

 

Years worth of memories came crashing down all in an instant. James was the one who made the first move at that agency wide Christmas party all those years ago. James noticed the awkward way he would try to avoid prolonged eye contact. James was the one who always made his cheeks flush with a red hot embarrassment and wonder. James was the one who knew all his secrets and hopes. James was the one he shared everything with…

 

_You have a job to do._

 

His hand carefully tapped the left arm of his glasses. The pop of static from the other end steadied his mind.

“Arthur…we lost Lancelot today….”

“Where?”

“Argentina, Sir.”

“Collect all his intel for a final report. We‘ll need that as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve gone so long without the need…assemble the Kingsmen.”

“Aye.”

“And Merlin?”

“Yes Arthur?”

“He was a good man. I’m so sorry.”

 

 

_This isn’t happening…_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first crack at doing anything like this. I selfishly needed to write something that took place between Argentina and the time Merlin walked into the dining room with Lancelot's intel. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you want to, you can follow me on my tumblr [here!](http://scotchandtextiles.tumblr.com)


End file.
